


People Are Alike All Over

by Kellyscams



Series: Whumptober [2]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alien Abduction, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Captivity, Dark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Escape, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Medical Torture, Modern Bucky Barnes, Needles, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Rescue, Suicidal Thoughts, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:34:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26823742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams
Summary: Bucky wakes up on an examination table.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Whumptober [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954231
Comments: 30
Kudos: 105
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **No 1. Let’s Hang Out Sometime**
> 
> Waking Up Restrained | Shackled | ~~Hanging~~
> 
> ~~****~~ **No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY**
> 
> ~~“Pick Who Dies”~~ | Collars | Kidnapped

Bucky wakes to a dull throbbing in the back of his head, a metal taste in his mouth, and unable to lift his limbs. He can’t quite get his eyes to open right away and he wonders if maybe he’s hungover, though, for the life of him, he can’t remember drinking last night. His bed feels all wrong. Uncomfortable. Hard, even. Now he’s wondering if maybe he passed out on the ground or something. Nothing else comes to mind for why the hell he’d be all achy and stiff and unable to move.

When Bucky finally pries his eyes open, he’s even more convinced that something crazy happened last night which left him passed out on the ground outside. The sun is glaring right into his eyes. He attempts to rub them in order to ease the burning and clear his vision, but he still can’t manage to list his arms. 

He groans. Blinks. The sun is too bright. Which is a silly thing to think, of course, it is. But no matter what he does he can’t move. Not even to look away from the sun. All he can manage is turning his head slightly from side to side but not nearly enough to look around. 

He __is__ able to tell that he’s on a metal table. Naked, at that. 

As his vision begins to clear, Bucky’s heart begins to pound. That’s not…that’s not the sun above him. It’s a light. A really fucking bright light and the more it takes shape, the more nervous Bucky grows. That’s an examination light. The kind in hospital exam rooms or operating rooms. Was he in an accident? Is that why he can’t move? 

Bucky gives words a try. Finds his throat on fire and ash in his mouth before he can finally get anything to spill out. 

“H-hello?” His voice is weak and shaky. He can’t seem to get it any stronger than that. “Is…is anyone--” 

Someone is suddenly leaning over him. Not enough to completely block the light but it at least gives Bucky the chance to see a little more clearly. It doesn’t help. All he can see are machines that he doesn’t recognize although he does recognize the sounds. The beep, beep, beep of a heart monitor that’s quickened its pace as Bucky’s pulse increases. 

“It is awake,” says the one hovered over him. Through a surgical mask. “Good looking specimen.”

“P-please…” Bucky whispers. “Wh-where am I? What’s…who are you?”

“Ugh,” he scoffs. “It is whining again. Why do these things always whine?” 

“They are simpleminded creatures, Zemo,” someone else in the room answers. “Inferior lifeforms. You know they cannot help it.”

A rock lodged itself in Bucky’s throat. If these guys were talking about him that way, then they weren’t any sort of doctors he heard of. 

“Th-that’s not true,” he whimpered. “I can--” 

“Zola, have you finished preparing the syringe?” Zemo asks. “We must hurry if we want to fetch a good price for it.” 

Eyes growing wide, Bucky gasps and shudders. He hates needles on his best days. This is anything but. 

“Wake up,” he whispers to himself. “Please, Bucky, please. Wake up. __Please__ wake up.” 

“Here we go.” Zola appears in Bucky’s sight now and that is the biggest fucking needle Bucky’s ever seen. “Is he still retrained?”

“Yes. The sedatives are holding strong. He will not move.” 

The machines start beeping faster. Breaths back up on Bucky so much he can barely stand it. His head spins. Tears spill. Dampness pools between his legs. 

“It is leaking,” Zemo says. “I hate it when they do that.”

“Primitive creatures,” Zola replies. “What do you expect? Tilt its head back.”

“Oh god…” Bucky breathes when Zemo’s gloved hand slips under his chin and forces his head back. “Please, help me. Please.” He sucks in a jagged breath, knowing damn well that there’s no one here with him. He wonders if he’ll ever see his friends and family again. “I want my mom. I want my mom, oh, god, please, I want my mommy. Help me, oh __god__ , someone help me!”

His voice finally raises just enough to be considered a scream but it does nothing to deter these two from sticking the needle into his neck. It doesn’t exactly hurt but it doesn’t feel pleasant either and Bucky screams some more. Screams for help. Screams for his mom. Screams that he wants to go home, he just wants to go home, please, let him go home. 

“Please, I wanna go home.” He keeps saying it. Again and again. “I wanna go home…I wanna go home…” 

His pleas go unanswered. Completely ignored as they continue to go about their business like he isn’t even there. Like they haven’t got him naked on a metal table, unable to move and having things injected into him. 

“Silence him,” Zola instructs. “We do not want to subject potential buyers with its insufferable noises.”

Silencing him apparently means putting a muzzle over his mouth. Tight. Painfully tight. It keeps Bucky from making any sounds other than muffled grunts otherwise it’s too difficult to breathe. 

There’s a whirring sound of machinery that comes from beneath him. A second later, the table Bucky’s on shudders and then tilts forward. He’s not sure why he doesn’t slide off it. Once it stops, Bucky finds himself facing a big screen. With him on it. A live view. There’re names scrolling on a sidebar. They’re going too quickly for Bucky to read and the tears in his eyes make it too hard to see anyway. 

“We’re live now,” Zemo says, appearing to Bucky’s right. “We have here a human being from the planet Earth in the milky way system.” He gestures to Bucky. “This specimen is in excellent condition.”

“A male of his species,” Dr. Zola continues. “Young. We date him to be in his early twenties. We’ll open the biddings at fifteen thousand units.” 

A horrible chill washes over Bucky. He shivers as numbers appear on the screen in front of him, getting higher and higher with each passing second. 

Bucky isn’t stupid. He knows what’s happening. He doesn’t know how or why but he knows an auction when he sees one. And right now, he’s the one for sale. 

***

The door to Bucky’s cage slides open. He knows better than to look up at Rumlow, his handler, as he comes in with a bucket of food. Bucky doesn’t say a word. Not even when the bucket lands on the floor in front of him. He’s careful not to jump at the sound it makes. That only brings pain. 

“Feeding time.” Rumlow crouches down in front of him and grabs his chin. Bucky opens his mouth and lets Rumlow shove in a handful of whatever it is they’ve been feeding him. “There you go; chew chew chew.” 

It’s still hard not to gag. Not to spit it out. This shit tastes like…well, Bucky’s not even sure, but he’s smelled dog food that smelled better than this. But it’s all he gets to eat. Everyday. Twice a day. And when he tried not eating it, he either went hungry or was beaten for not obeying the rules. 

Bucky doesn’t know how long he’s been here. Weeks. Maybe even months. The hours are different. Longer days. Not that he gets to see the sky. Or the sun. Or is even allowed the luxury of the fresh air for even a moment. 

No, he’s kept as an indoor attraction, here at the Hydra Zoo of Rare and Exotic Animals. He has no idea what planet this is or why he’s such a hot commodity but visitors come each and every day. Some of them look very much like humans--like the ones who took him and the ones who run the zoo. Some of them are humanoid. Others aren’t at all. 

They come by and they point and, Bucky thinks, take pictures. Sometimes, Bucky thinks they imitate him when he’s pacing. Twelve steps across the length of the cage, six steps the width. The chain attached to the floor and locked to the collar around his neck doesn’t allow for any further movement than that. There isn’t much more room for him to roam around in anyway. 

He can see a few other exhibits on the other side of the hall. Directly across the way, in a cage just like Bucky’s is something that looks a lot like a huge octopus except it has more than eight tentacles and isn’t in water. It’s a deep purple color and has one eye right in the middle of its body. Bucky assumes its mouth is on its underside since they just toss food into the cage and it sort of slithers over it. 

To the right of that is a reptilian looking humanoid who can wow the crowds by shapeshifting. Unlike Bucky, who’s confined in a barred cage with a collar around his neck that’s attached to the floor by a chain, he’s trapped by thick glass. Or what Bucky assumes is some sort of unbreakable glass. 

On the other side is what looks like a regular orange tabby cat, but it’s far from it given the giant tentacles that come out of its mouth. It also has glass in front of it and signs that warn visitors from getting too close. 

Bucky can’t see past that. Not even to those who are the sides of his own cage. He’s trapped by three stone walls and bars. He does know that there’s a sign in front of it. It reads: Homosapien. Male. Planet of origin: Terra. 

Rumlow snapping his fingers in front of Bucky’s face snaps him out of the daze he’s grown accustomed to, especially while being fed. It’s one of the only reasons he gets through it without throwing it back up again. 

“Be a good boy today,” he says, “and maybe you will get a treat when we close.” 

For some reason, the people on this planet don’t employ the use of conjunctions. It’s almost comforting. They look so much like humans that sometimes the only reason Bucky remembers they’re not is by their speech patterns. It might just be their universal translators. The only reason Bucky understands everyone.

“Come on. Up.” Rumlow gives a hard tug on the chain to bring Bucky to his feet. He’s shaky on his legs and it takes a moment to keep his balance. “Inspect.”

Orders. Bucky knows how to follow them. Knows, as well, what happens when he doesn’t. 

He lifts his arms to the side, spreads his legs, and looks up at the ceiling. Rough hands roam across his skin as Rumlow gives him the once over. 

“Hm.” He clicks his tongue. “Looks as though you might need to be bathed later. You are filthy.” Rumlow takes a short, quick inhale through his nose and then gags. “And you smell worse than usual.” 

Being bathed doesn’t earn Bucky any reprieve. They do it right in here. Spray him down with hoses that only fire cold water at him. Scrub brushes with hard bristles across his skin. Towel him off and then they just leave him to dry. 

Bucky’s got a pile of blankets in the middle of his cage that serve as a bed and a hole in the corner for his waste. He’s lucky enough to have rags to clean himself with. They at least change them every day. 

Once Rumlow is finished looking him over, he tugs on the chain again to bring Bucky back down to his knees. He waits there, unmoving, as Rumlow goes about his normal business. Checking to make sure everything is in order. He won’t be the one to do anything about it if he finds something. Even something as simple as filling Bucky’s water bucket he’ll have someone else do. 

“Okay.” Rumlow grabs the empty food bucket. “I will return later.” 

The second he’s gone, Bucky collapses back into the blankets and sobs into them. Not including dinner feeding, Rumlow will come back three times. For the shows. Where he’ll make Bucky perform tricks like somersaults and cartwheels. The only good thing about it is that the collar comes off for a little while. 

For now, Bucky just allows tears to roll silently down his cheeks as he stares at the back of the cage. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky may or may not be rescued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:
> 
> **No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?**
> 
> ~~On the Run~~ | ~~Failed Escape~~ | Rescue

There’s a commotion somewhere.

It wakes Bucky from what little sleep he can manage to get in this place. He pushes up on his left elbow and tries to make sense of what he’s hearing beyond the enclosure. Sounds like voices. Lots of them. Shouting. 

The shapeshifter across from Bucky has his face pressed against the glass, clearly trying to figure out what’s happening as well. The octopus hasn’t stirred from sleep. The cat is poised right in the center of its enclosure, licking its paw. 

Moments later, all that noise and chaos is in their section. Someone’s tossed a smoke grenade. It goes off not far from Bucky’s cage and makes his eyes water. Through the clouds of white smoke, Bucky can see glints of green light. People dressed in what Bucky can only describe as some sort of intergalactic SWAT gear. They’re swarming through the place, going from cage to cage. 

When someone reaches Bucky’s, they stop and just stare at him. Bucky can’t see their face, but the way they look at him, even behind that mask, it makes Bucky think he’s done something wrong and the last thing he wants is to give these things another reason to hurt him.

Out in the hall, through the dissipating fog, Bucky can see zoo employees being hauled away. Arrested, from what he can tell, with laser like cuffs keeping their arms behind their backs. He even sees Rumlow, who fights and struggles the entire time.

“Holy shit,” the person in front of Bucky’s cage says. There’s a name sewn into his uniform. Wilson, it says. “Cap! You’re gonna wanna see this!” 

Wait a minute…that sounded almost…human. 

The man lifts his face mask and it doesn’t help very much since Bucky’s not only seen aliens who look remarkably human, but also aliens that can replicate one. 

“Hey,” Wilson says, softly. Gently. “Can you understand me?” 

Bucky thinks he’s talking to him, and, yes, he can understand him, but he’s not so sure he should actually answer. Last time he spoke, he was hit with electric prods until he held in his screams. 

Two other people appear at Wilson’s sides. A man and a woman. Neither of them are in protective gear. The woman, muscular and sturdy looking, has a bit of blue blood trickling down her nose. On her uniform is the name Danvers. 

The man, though…that…is that… 

“Which Cap, Sam?” Danvers asks. “There’re two’ve us.” 

“Both, I guess,” Sam answers. “Take a look.”

First glancing at Bucky, both Caps’ eyes go wide before dropping to the sign in front of the cage. The second Cap, the one with the name Rogers, gasps when he looks directly back at Bucky again and Bucky immediately glances away. 

“Oh my God,” Rogers breathes. “B-Bucky?”

No, it can’t be. That can’t be who Bucky thinks it is, it’s impossible. It’s not Steve Rogers. The Steve Rogers that Bucky knew from high school was tiny. Maybe five feet. Ninety pounds. Asthmatic and always sick. But still one of the most popular guys in school. Everyone fucking loved him and Bucky had the biggest crush on him but was much too intimidated to ever talk to him. _That_ Steve Rogers didn’t even know he existed let alone knew his name. 

And besides, this Rogers is huge. Buff. With the same face as Bucky’s Steve. The same beautiful blue eyes that drew in sunshine and brightened the world. The same tight jawline. Same thick eyelashes. But it can’t be. 

Can it?

“Do you know him, Steve?” Danvers asks. 

“I…I think so…” Steve glances around and shouts for someone. “Stark! Stark, you gotta get me in there!”

Another person appears, this time in some crazy iron get-up. Red and gold. When the face-plate lifts up, he looks just as shocked to see Bucky as the rest of them.

“Is that…” Stark looks between Bucky and the sign. “Is he…human? I’ve never seen…”

“Tony, please,” Steve implores. “You gotta get me in there. I know him.”

“You know…” Tony’s faceplate falls in front of him again. “You got it.”

Tony’s suit apparently enables him to fly and he soars over to the bars where he proceeds to use the lasers on his iron gloves to cut through the bars. As soon as they give way just a bit, Steve is yanking them out and dropping to his knees by Bucky’s side. 

The first thing he does is pull the chain off of the collar. With his bare hands. He then does the same with the collar. 

“Oh God, Bucky,” he whispers. “Bucky, can you hear me? Do you remember me?”

Bucky looks into Steve’s eyes and knows without a doubt that this really is the Steve Rogers he knew back in high school. He has no idea how it’s him, but, well, stranger things have happened. 

As Steve continues to fuss over him, trying to get him to answer, to acknowledge him, to give him any clue that he’s aware of the things going on around him, Bucky can hear Tony and Sam comment about never seeing a human in one of these places. 

“Bucky,” Steve whispers. There’s a soft blanket around Bucky’s shoulders. He’s not sure when it got there. “Bucky, can you look at me?”

That’s one order that Bucky finds himself able to follow. He lifts his gaze and looks at Steve. It’s been so long since Bucky’s talked that he’s not even sure if he can do it anymore. 

“Fuck,” Steve swears. “Jesus, what’d they do to you?” All around, the people Steve’s come here with are entering the cages and enclosures and helping those inside them. Just like Steve is trying to do for him. “Medic! I need a medic in here!” When Steve shouts, Bucky can’t help the shudder. “Shit, I’m sorry,” Steve says, much softer this time. “I’m--”

“I…” Bucky whispers and almost can’t believe the sound of his own voice. “I wanna go home.”

Relief washes over Steve’s face, Bucky’s awareness enough to make the weight fall off his shoulders. If he’s not mistaken, Steve even has tears in his eyes. 

"Yeah, I know," Steve murmurs, hands raised and close to Bucky but not touching. "I'm gonna get you home, buddy. I promise."

There are more people in the cage with them now. A green woman. A blue woman as well. Danvers and Sam. They’re bringing in a stretcher with a clear dome over it. Like Snow White’s casket only Bucky doesn’t think a kiss will wake him from this nightmare. 

As soon as Bucky sees it, he grabs Steve’s hand. Clings to it. The idea of being separated from the first familiar face he's seen in months is terrifying. 

"It’s okay, Bucky," Steve says. "I'm not gonna leave you. This will keep you safe from the air and light. I'm...we're…I'll take care of you. I promise."

Bucky’s too exhausted and too scared and too overwhelmed to argue. He doesn't protest as Steve helps him onto the stretcher. Bucky still won’t let go of his hand. He can’t. If he does that, he’ll never see him again. All of this will vanish if he can’t touch Steve and everything will go back to what it was and he’ll never get home.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he whispers, and Bucky’s not sure why he’s using a pet name, but he’s very much okay with it and he wants it again. “I’m gonna stay right here with you.” 

Bucky lays back then and even though he’s trembling, he allows them to put the dome over it. As soon as it’s secure, there’s a hiss of air pumped in from somewhere and it’s fresh and cool and Bucky hasn’t felt air like this in so, so long. 

When they lift it, Bucky gasps and presses his hand against the dome over him. Steve responds immediately by pressing his hand to it as well. 

“It’ll be all right, Bucky,” he says, and even though his voice is muffled because of the dome, it still melts over Bucky’s body and eases into his bones. “You’re gonna go home. I promise.”

Those are the last words Bucky hears as they take him out of there. He can still see Steve’s lips moving, and is sure that others are talking as well, but nothing’s getting through now. Everything grows hazy, his muscles feel a bit too heavy. Makes it hard to stay awake. His hand slips away from the glass over him. Steve’s stays right where it is. Just as he promised.

Things are happening both very quickly and slowly at the same time. Like Bucky’s viewing the world through water. Colors swirl together. His pulse is very fast and pounding. He can mostly only hear the loud sounds of his heavy breaths and the muffled voices of everyone out there, though they sound miles away.

Maybe they’ve drugged him. Maybe this isn’t real and the zookeepers have drugged his food and he’s being taken in for a medical exam. It’s not the most far-fetched. It’s happened before.

Maybe they’re getting ready to stick him with needles for blood samples and pump things into him _for his own good_ that burn and make him scream through the muzzle. 

Maybe there’s no rescue at all. Maybe that’s why he’s seeing Steve Rogers as some sort of savior. 

It really wouldn’t surprise Bucky if his mind has finally snapped. If it just can’t take it any longer and needs to invent rescuers in order to survive this whole thing. Although maybe it’d be better if…but no. No, he’s a fighter. He doesn’t give up. He can get through this. 

Bucky takes one last look at Steve, still a steady presence at the side of the stretcher, still with his hand on the glass. Like some kind of mind reader, Steve looks back at him just as Bucky struggles one last time to keep his eyes open.

But he can’t. 

All he can do now is close his eyes and hope this isn’t a dream.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares, therapy, aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Whumptober2020
> 
> Prompt:
> 
> **No 18. PANIC! AT THE DISCO**
> 
> Panic Attacks | ~~Phobias~~ | Paranoia

Bucky hears a noise.

He knows that noise.

The high pitched beeping of the keypad lock of his cage. 

Bucky smells something. 

He knows that smell.

The feed that they force him to eat, shoved into his mouth by the rough, uncaring hands of his handler.

Bucky feels something heavy around his neck.

He knows that feeling.

The collar they locked around his neck.

Bucky’s too afraid to open his eyes again. He knew it’d been too good to be true. There was no rescue. He’s still here. In this godforsaken alien zoo. Naked and on display for entertainment. He shivers. Trembles. Whimpers. 

Rumlow is here for him. The man who’s in charge of his training, who beats Bucky if he doesn’t obey, who forces him to do tricks for visitors. He’s going to make him eat that disgusting feed. He’ll mock him. 

The bucket lands next to Bucky. Tears slip out of his closed eyes. He wants to plead to a God he’s sure has turned His back on him to take him away from here. Even if that means death. But they won’t let him escape. Not even by taking his own life. 

“Did you really think we would let you escape?” Rumlow asks, lips right against Bucky’s ear. “You are _ours_. Our pathetic little asset. You will never leave here.” 

Bucky smothers down a sob. He can’t do this anymore; he just can’t. It’s too much. It’s just too much and he needs it to end. 

“Please,” Bucky cries. Stupid. So stupid; he knows that speaking is met with pain, but he can’t help it. “No more. Please, no more.”

“Time to wake up, human.”

“No.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tighter. All this misbehavior is bound to be punished, but he can’t stop himself. “Please. Please. Please.”

“Bucky--”

“No. No, no. _No_!”

“--come on, wake up.”

Hands land on Bucky’s shoulders and shake. They’re going to hurt him again, he knows it, but he just goes on crying and screaming and begging for them to leave him alone. 

“Oh, God, please, let me go! Please!”

“Bucky, baby, come on, open your eyes!” 

Someone’s using his name. Bucky doesn’t understand; they don’t use his name. They don’t even acknowledge the fact that he’s a sentient creature. A person with emotions and complex thought and an identity. They took that from him. All of it. Bit by bit. 

“Shit, c’mon, baby.” There’s a hand at his cheek. Soft. Tender. Cupping it in strength but safety. “Bucky, sweetheart, you have to wake up. Please. Open your eyes for me.” 

It takes hearing his name for a second time for Bucky to realize that he’s not actually saying anything. All he’s doing is screaming at the top of his lungs while someone cups the back of his head and shakes him. 

The screaming doesn’t stop, but Bucky does start to pry open his eyes. They’re wet and blurry with tears. What he can make out of the ceiling…it’s not the ceiling of his cage. Not that cold, hard stone. Overhead is plaster. Painted blue. Sky blue with big fluffy clouds. Bucky has a perfect view of it since his head is tilted all the way back. Not just any clouds. They form words. 

_You’re Safe, Bucky_.

“That’s it, that’s right, baby, look at the ceiling. Read the words. You’re safe, Bucky. You’re in a recovery room in a facility in upstate New York.”

New York. Yes, right. That’s right. Things begin to fall into place, the fog of terror lifting and leaving Bucky’s mind a little clearer. He’s in a soft, comfortable bed, his weight being supported by someone else since his body feels limp and weak. 

“Bucky, can you look at me? Can you say something?” 

His head is coaxed back up and his eyes land on the one holding him. Steve. Steve Rogers is holding him, and somewhere in the back of Bucky’s mind he knows that’s right. Unfortunately, his brain seems to be misfiring and he couldn’t respond. Too many thoughts all at once. 

The room spins around him in dizzying circles. Fire burned through his lungs and he kept gasping for air. He couldn’t breathe. His heart desperately tried to break through his rib and burst from his chest. His cheeks were stained wet with teartracks. Tears continued to drip from his chin. 

“Okay. Okay, Bucky, you’re having a panic attack,” Steve says, gently petting a hand over Bucky’s hair and then reaching to the side for something. An oxygen mask. “This will help you breathe; it’s gonna fit over your mouth and nose, and I’ll hold it in place for you. Okay? Blink once if you understand me.”

A panic attack. 

Has he ever had a panic attack before? He can’t recall. It then dawns on Bucky that Steve’s asked him to do something. If Bucky doesn’t listen and obey in a timely manner, he’ll be punished. Or, wait, no, maybe it’s not Steve who punishes him. It’s Rumlow. 

Rumlow isn’t here. Steve is. And Steve is holding Bucky and trying to comfort him and offering him oxygen to help him breathe. Steve won’t hurt him. Bucky shuts his eyes tight to blink once and let Steve know that he understands him. 

“There you go,” Steve murmurs as he slips the oxygen mask of Bucky’s face. “Breathe in deep, honey.” 

Through his nose, Steve instructs and then counts as Bucky’s inhales, tells him to hold his breath for a few seconds before allowing him to release it. As he continues doing that, Steve lifts up his other hand.

“I’m gonna put this hand over your fingers,” he explains. “All I’m gonna do is rub your knuckles. Just concentrate on that feeling, okay? Can you do that?”

Remembering his orders, Bucky knows that proper way to respond to that is the blink for yes. Or, wait. No, not orders. Steve doesn’t give him orders. Steve requests things from him. Asks for permission before touching. Which is why that hand is still up. He’s waiting for Bucky to let him know it’s okay to place it down over Bucky’s. 

Somewhere in the corner of his mind, blocked by the fear that he’s going to do something wrong and be in trouble for it and wake up back in his cage, Bucky knows that it’s also appropriate to nod in answer. Since he can’t quite manage that right now, he blinks again, and Steve slowly lowers his hand. Bucky immediately recognizes the touch. That soft, tender way Steve’s thumb runs over his knuckles. Just as he said. 

“That’s it,” Steve says. “You’re doing so good, Bucky. Just keep breathing, nice and deep. Feel my hand in yours. That’s real. This is real. You’re safe. This will pass.” 

Little by little, bit by bit, Bucky’s breathing starts to slow. His heartbeat gradually evens. The trembling comes to a stop. A few shivers run up his spine and through his limbs. That, he thinks, is from the chill in the air. Steve must notice it too since he pulls the covers around him.

Now that Bucky’s starting to settle, Steve removes the oxygen mask from his face and sets it aside somewhere else. Things are also starting to clear in Bucky’s mind. He remembers everything. Even the things he wishes he’d forget forever.

Bucky remembers going to bed one night and waking up on a metal table. Realizing halfway through that nightmare that he’d been abducted. Not by people. Not by some horrible, evil human--which would be bad enough--but by aliens. Extraterrestrial beings that, up till that horrifying moment, had been nothing but a scary story. The monsters kids told stories about trying to scare each other and Hollywood made movies about and some people claimed to be real.

At that time, Bucky’d been so sure that no one had ever _really_ been abducted. People who claimed to have been were experiencing something that could be explained away rationally. Bucky even laughed at the idea. 

Not so much at the idea of being alone in the world. He’d always imagined there might be other life forms out there. Just not to the extent that he now knows. And certainly not beings that went around collecting life from other planets. 

It'd actually taken Bucky quite some time to really believe that he’d been abducted by aliens. He desperately searched for a more rational reason to explain whatever the fuck had been happening. 

After a while, though…after hearing them talk about him like he had no reasoning skills or complex thought, after being “trained”, after the beatings and experiments and mistreatment, Bucky finally realized there was no other explanation. There was no hope. If his family and friends were looking for him, they’d never find him. 

Turns out, no one had even been looking for him yet. 

That’s because Bucky had been taken to a planet in the Black Eye Galaxy, approximately seventeen million lightyears away from home. Each day on their planet is only about an hour in Earth time. The five and a half months Bucky spent in the zoo was only about a week to everyone else, and as an engineering student, particularly a bookworm like Bucky, he was prone to disappearing for days at a time to study. 

In fact, the first person who even realized there might be something wrong was his classmate and friend, Shuri, who noticed his week-long absence from class. When her visits to his room and calls went unanswered, she tried getting in touch with their other friends. Of course, none of them had heard from or could get in touch with him either.

Before anyone could panic, S.H.I.E.L.D., an international covert government agency, intercepted a message from their intergalactic division about their most recent mission, including the discovery of one human being. 

The director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury, quickly devised a cover story. Not one that involved alien abductions. Apparently, the story they threw together in just a few hours, or maybe it’s the one they have on hand, is that Bucky had tuberculosis. 

Both a feasible and workable lie. Gave Bucky some time to start recuperating before even attempting an actual conversation with someone. 

He still isn’t great with that, even these six months later, but he’s getting better. 

“Bucky?”

Eyes flicking from the ceiling to Steve, Bucky tries to focus on him. On Steve Rogers, or, as he’s known to his team, Captain America. Recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. for his brain, Steve was selected by a brilliant scientist, Dr. Erskine, for an experimental procedure that made him what he is now. 

The serum has enhanced both his body and mind, and Steve joined the Intergalactic Task Force after Dr. Erskine was killed by a Life Model Decoy that infiltrated from unknown origins.

To be honest, Bucky doesn’t really give a shit about any of that. Whatever made Steve the way he is now and whoever the fuck S.H.I.E.L.D. is and whoever the Intergalactic Task Force does…they got Bucky out of that hellhole. 

They’ve also given him a therapist who deals with these kinds of trauma. She’s helping him with his PTSD. There are support groups, too. Other victims of varying types of abductions that come together to talk about their experiences. No one’s ever told a story like Bucky’s. Bucky hasn’t shared his with them either. 

Maybe one day. 

“Tired…” Bucky whispers, and the word, as soft as it is, produces a smile from Steve. Bucky likes it when Steve smiles. He’s very beautiful. He’s always been beautiful. 

“That’s okay,” Steve assures him, opening his arms and allowing Bucky to fall into them. “That took a lot out of you. But you did it. You’re okay.”

Bucky nods at this comfort, finding some contentment and safety in Steve’s soft voice and strong presence. He doesn’t know what they are. If there’s even a word for it. Steve hasn’t gone back into the field since he brought Bucky home. Bucky feels safe with him and he’s promised not to leave as long as Bucky wants him to stay.

“Steve?” Bucky clings to Steve’s shirt. 

“Yes, Bucky?”

“Can they find me?”

They’ve been over this before. Over and over and over. But no matter how many times he’s assured by all different people -- Steve, his therapist, Sam or Carol or Tony when they return from missions -- Bucky’s still not convinced. 

After all, all he did was go to bed and then everything went to hell.

If they found him once, they can find him again.

Right?

“No, Bucky,” Steve says and then grazes the scar on the side of Bucky’s neck with the tip of his finger. “See? We took the tracker out of you. And the two poachers have been arrested and the zoo shut down. They’re being held by the Nova Corps.” 

The intergalactic police task force that S.H.I.E.L.D. works alongside. 

“You’re…you’re sure?” 

“Yes. You’re under our protection. _No one_ would dare touch you again.”

Maybe. 

Maybe not.

Bucky can only hope.

***

“You’re sure you want to do this?” 

That’s got to be at least the hundredth time Steve’s asked. It’s sweet, in a way. How protective he is. But Bucky sighs as he suits up and puts his weapons together. He’s waited three years to get here. His first mission with the task force. 

There’s no turning back now. 

“Yes, Steve.” Bucky shoves a magazine into his gun. “I’ve passed every test.” Physical and psychological. “They’ve cleared me for active duty. I’m doing this.” 

“I know you’re cleared for duty,” Steve says. “I just wanna make sure--”

“I’m _sure_ , babe.” Bucky grabs him by the shirt and tugs him in for a kiss. “You’re not gonna talk me out of it.” 

“I know, I know.” He sighs. “If you need this…I’m with you.” 

Bucky doesn’t know if this will give him the catharsis he’s looking for or if it will even heal him a little more. All he knows for certain is that there are other places out there. Places that have people -- human and alien alike -- in captivity and in horrendous conditions. Bucky refuses to leave them there to suffer. 

And with Steve and the rest of the team by his side, Bucky will do his part in making the universe safer. 

One mission at a time.


End file.
